


It Means Cute and Dozing Off

by berlynn_wohl



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Sleepiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 03:39:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1967562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berlynn_wohl/pseuds/berlynn_wohl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You may have seen a Tumblr post* which contains both an explanation and an illustration of the difference between “sleepy” and “tired.” Will is always tired, so I wanted to write a fic where he is sleepy instead.</p><p>*http://artkat.tumblr.com/post/81944004215/despairnaegami-personasanta-does-anybody</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Means Cute and Dozing Off

Unbeknownst to him, the walls of Will’s maxillary sinus were flexing like a bellows, so that the ambient air he was taking in would cool his brain. He was also mechanically stimulating his carotid artery – his neck compression was promoting an increase in blood circulation. Hannibal was aware of these things as they were happening, but all Will knew was that he could no longer suppress his yawns. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, dabbing at his watering eyes with his shirtsleeve tucked over the heel of his hand. “I don’t know exactly how rude it is to yawn at the dinner table, but I imagine it’s somewhere between ‘terribly’ and ‘unspeakably.’” 

“Think nothing of it,” Hannibal said. “Likely as not it is my fault, considering the menu: hummus and dates were included in the main course, followed by dark chocolate and cherries in the dessert. All foods which have a soporific effect, though that did not occur to me at the time.” 

Another yawn came on, forcing Will’s mouth to gape and his eyes to shut. He barely covered his mouth in time, and Hannibal caught a fleeting glimpse of the wet, pink inside of it. A warm feeling, small but shivery, burrowed into him at the sight. 

“Well, I regret nothing,” Will replied, sinking his spoon once more into the mousse. “This is delicious. As always.” Hannibal could see Will twitch forward every once in a while, desperately wanting to put his elbow on the table and rest his chin on his hand, but resisting the urge. Instead, he swayed slightly to the music that Hannibal had put on (Brahms’ _Clarinet Quintet in B minor_ , though Will did not know this), allowing it to lull him further. 

“You’re welcome to retire to bed early, when you’ve finished your dessert,” Hannibal offered. 

“No, no, I can stay up. I’m not that sleepy. Just, if we could do something that doesn’t require me to use my brain. Like if tonight was your night for us to split the atom, we should probably save that for another time.” 

“Perhaps you would like to listen to my most recent composition?” 

Before he answered, Will asked for specifics: “Harpsichord or theremin?” 

“Harpsichord.” 

Will nodded, more or less, just letting his head loll. “Think I can handle that.” 

In the music room there was an ivory and gold Louis XVI sofa; Will shuffled over and situated himself on it while Hannibal took care of the dishes. Will didn’t dare put his feet up on it, but having sat down, he allowed himself to tip over, and lie more or less on his back, with his feet still on the floor, to listen to Hannibal play. 

Will understood just enough about music to identify Hannibal’s piece as a fugue: he recognized the recurrent passages in the haunting piece, though they became less distinct to him as the drowsiness tugged at his limbs. He began to doze, and even a particularly electrifying melodic swell failed to move him, as he merely incorporated it into his placid half-dreaming state. 

After an indeterminate amount of time had passed, Will became aware that the room had fallen into silence, but he had no inclination to ask Hannibal to play something else, or to rise from the sofa, or to do anything else except to continue to lie there in his tranquil haze. He had a vague notion that he should try to fool Hannibal into thinking that the music hadn’t put him to sleep, so he tilted his head to one side and tried to open his eyes, as though he had been wide awake but deep in thought the whole time. But he only succeeded in drawing attention to the fact that he had been snoozing, as his head did not so much tilt as flop, and his eyelids dropped closed again immediately. 

There was a soft squeak of wood against marble as Hannibal rose from the bench, and then Will heard nothing more until he felt a presence looming over him. Hannibal knelt at his side, and gently cupped the side of Will’s face, tucking the heel of his hand under his jaw while his fingertips touched his cheekbone. Will mumbled, “’m awake.” 

Hannibal took his hand away, then slid it underneath Will’s knees. His other arm snaked under Will’s shoulders. He said, “Put your arms around my neck.” 

Will was still not interested in opening his eyes, so he put his arms slowly forward, feeling his way up the front of Hannibal’s shirt so as not to hit him in the face while carrying out this task. As his arms went around Hannibal’s shoulders, Hannibal pulled Will closer, then got his knees properly under him so that he could lift Will in a bridal carry. Once he was holding Will securely, the rest was easy; Will’s weight was hardly a burden to him. 

“This is undignified,” Will murmured as Hannibal carried him up the stairs. 

“Why do you feel it is undignified?” 

After several seconds, Will responded with a brief atonal hum. 

Hannibal had to bend slightly at the knee in order to get to the doorknob so he could open the bedroom door. He nudged it open, and carried Will across the threshold. By this time, Will’s embarrassment over being carried had woken him up somewhat, and so when Hannibal placed him on the bed, he insisted on sitting up, albeit in a profound slouch. Hannibal unlaced his shoes and pulled them off, one by one, then his socks. Will tried to help by working open the buttons of his shirt, and he did manage to get two before Hannibal did the rest. His arms felt so heavy, compelling Hannibal to manhandle him a bit to remove it. 

With great effort, Will finally raised his leaden arms so that Hannibal could pull his t-shirt off of him, then immediately fell back into a slump. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “You were probably planning to fuck me silly tonight.” 

Having tugged the shirt off with a flourish, Hannibal carefully turned it right-side-out and set it aside. He said mildly, “It’s alright. I can fuck you silly in the morning.” 

Will snorted at this uncharacteristic use of an expletive. With his legs still hanging off the side of the bed, Hannibal had him lie on his back, to facilitate the removal of his trousers. Each time Will was moved around, to get his clothes off or to get him properly in the bed and under the blankets, he grunted softly. 

Hannibal undressed and walked around to the other side of the bed. He slipped under the covers and slid up next to Will, who said, “You don’t have to get in bed too, just because I’m sleepy. You must have lots to do.” 

Hannibal reached over to the bedside table and picked up an aged, clothbound book. He tucked his knees up, resting the book on them so that he would only need one hand to turn the pages. With his free arm, he could now cuddle Will close. “I’ll just be reading,” Hannibal said, tugging the covers up over Will’s bare flank. 

Will nuzzled Hannibal’s shoulder. “Read to me.” 

“You’ll be asleep again in one minute.” 

“So read to me for one minute.” 

Hannibal cleared his throat as he settled in. Will was tucked warmly into his side, his breath tickling over Hannibal’s ribs. 

_Once there was no sea,_ Hannibal began, picking up where he’d left off the night before, _and the gods went walking over the green plains of earth. Upon an evening of forgotten years the gods were seated on the hills, and all the little rivers of the world lay coiled at Their feet asleep, when Slid, the new god, striding through the stars, came suddenly upon the earth lying in a corner of space_ … 

Hannibal continued reading aloud long after Will’s soft, rhythmic snores betrayed how deeply he slumbered.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hannibal is reading from Lord Dunsany’s "Beyond the Fields We Know," a book you will likely enjoy if you can happily imagine H.P. Lovecraft writing "The Silmarillion."


End file.
